Maybe You're Dreaming of Me
by YelyahFran
Summary: Just because they're geniuses, doesn't mean they don't make mistakes. A series of oneshots about Fitzsimmons, our two adorable science cherubs. The title was derived from the song World Favorite by Man Overboard.
1. Constant

**Oh my dear goodness, this is absolutely horrid. I know I can do better than this and I want to make you guys cry because that is my speciality, but I'm just not feeling too eloquent right now. Also, I said I was going to post this yesterday so I'm sorry I'm late. I don't even have an excuse anymore. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first in what is hopefully a long list of oneshots about Fitzsimmons. Please review when you're finished!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Marvel. I really want to though.**

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When Coulson was recruiting the two of them, he'd said that there was going to be a lot of pressure, a lot of time constraints that had things to do with people's lives. He warned them that they were going to be the line between life and death without having to take a bullet for anyone. Probably.

So after what he'd said, he found himself disappointed that the two of them were constantly caught in the middle of crossfires, ones between them and their assailants. Neither were thrilled at the thought of getting shot at and dying; it wasn't what either of them had in mind when they signed up for the job.

Yet, a part of him already knew that stuff like that was eventually going to occur when she'd convinced him to join her upon entry into the field. There was something about the thrill and the danger that attracted her and he supposed that such enthusiasm was not only infectious, but also simply too difficult for him to resist.

"Could you move your bloody arse faster Simmons?"

"I'm trying Fitz, but if you let go of my wrist it might be a bit easier."

He could hear her reply over the shots being fired by the five hired hands of the Egyptian warlord that sent them and shots that May countered using the two pistols in her hands. Even with her comment, he refused to let her go. He clung onto her even tighter, pulling her as he ran as fast his legs could take him.

The sound of blood pounding in his ears and the pain in his legs reminded him that they were at the very least alive, something he was grateful for. He wanted the two of them to get through another day, another mission. All he wanted was for them to get back there safe and alive.

"Come on you two, catch up!"

"We're trying, Ward! We're not exactly-"

He got cut off by her bloodcurdling scream and he felt his skin crawl at the very sound. May shouted at them to keep moving, but his feet were glued to the spot as he stared at her face, contorted with pain and agony; an expression that sent shivers up his spine.

"Oh my dear Lord." He looked down at her leg and he pushed back both the bile and the tears at the sight of her holding bloody fingers against a spot above her right knee. There was something about it that made his chest constrict, something that made him lose the hope that both of them had been clinging onto.

"Fitz, we can do this!" She put her arm around him for support and he felt a renewed determination, one that just wasn't there before. He knew that he couldn't lose her and all that he could think of as he helped her up the ramp was that he needed her to be safe.

It wasn't just about surviving anymore. It was about her.

"I'm going to be okay Fitz," She said weakly, her eyelids beginning to flutter as the ramp began to go up, shielding them from any remaining bullets. He looked at her face and the tears that escaped her eyes were too much for him to take. "It's going to be alright."

Her eyes closed and he wasn't sure if he screamed or not. The urgency of the situation put out any remaining thoughts in his mind and all he could focus on was her and only her. He carried her and all he could think about was how small she looked in his arms and how her colour was similar to that of porcelain.

And somewhere deep down, he knew that he loved her and he was going to do anything so he wouldn't lose her.

Lucky enough, the bullet wound was only skin deep and nothing too serious. No one dared tell that to him, they didn't want him to lash out. He was a bundle of nerves and there was nothing anyone could do about it. They'd always relied on Simmons as to keep the balance, to keep him together.

Everyone stood around her bed, except for May who was flying the bus and him who sat by her bedside, holding her hand as he stared at her face. When he looked at her, none of his thoughts were clear or coherent. He couldn't think of anything but how she was still under.

"She's going to be alright Fitz."

"Don't tell me she's going to be alright Skye." He growled at her. No one had ever seen him that way, so feral and almost angry at the entire world. "I'm not going to believe that she's going to be alright until she says something to me, until she tells me that she's going to be alright."

He drew lazy patterns on her hand with his thumb while thinking about how unbelivably important she really was to him. They never really thought about how attached they would become when S.H.I.E.L.D. put them together, but they did despite major diffences.

His life was one neverending equation filled with variables and missing an answer. She was the only constant in that equation and he was never going to let her go. She was the crust of the sun, a part of everything that his complicated world had been revolving around for so long.

When she'd pushed him to join her in the field, he didn't just do it because he wanted to learn and experience more; he did it so that they wouldn't be pulled apart. They were more than just best mates, they were completely attached. It was a companionship that rivaled every other.

"Fitz, we've done everything we can to help her and she's going to be alright. Calm down." Coulson spoke in a fatherly voice, a reassuring one. He knew that she was going to be okay, but every time he looked at her, he could just feel something gnawing away at him.

"I know. I just don't want to see her like this ever again."

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and he saw her stir. He breathed out a smile of relief and cracked the first smile since the mission in Egypt began. Oblivious to how she would feel since she was already half awake, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

"Fitz?"

The sight of her rapidly blinking her eyelids made him breathe out a sigh of relief. He squeezed her hand and she smiled, knowing that she was never going to be alone. "You're okay now, Jemma." He said to her before brushing yet another strand of hair from her face.

"What's everyone standing around here for?"

"Well, we were kind of concerned about you and Fitz too. He was hysterical after we got you patched up." Skye replied and he looked down at the floor. He'd been hoping that no one would tell her that litte detail just so that he wouldn't have to expalin himself.

"If you don't mind guys, I'd like to speak to her alone." He said and Coulson gave a nod of understanding. Skye placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, her eyes saying, "You can do this Fitz."

When Ward closed the door behind him, he stopped holding back the tears in his eyes and began to cry softly. He put her hand to his lips, glad that he was not dreaming. He could not hold back the feeling of relief; she was alive and nothing mattered to him more.

"I think that's the most scared I've ever been in my entire life." He admitted to her and she smiled at him, a gentle one that reached her eyes. "I've never been so afraid of losing anyone in my life. And I never thought that I'd ever have to face losing you."

"You weren't going to lose me."

"But what if I did?" She stared back at him and he kissed her hand again. "I literally can't think of life without you because I practically live in the lab and I don't think I'd make it one day without you standing there beside me, reminding me that I need to sleep and breathe."

"So you're finally admitting that you need me?" A smirk graced her lips and he leaned forward.

"No," He looked at her with eyes that just said it all. "I'm admitting a lot more."

And when he kissed her, she just knew she need him too.


	2. Tendency For Insecurity

**I'm sorry if this is weird or suckish in any way, but I'm quite bored and people are bugging me so I wrote this. Please review when you're finished and if you want to send me any prompts, go ahead and do so! I will try to do as many as I possibly can because I know that a lot of you actually have lots of ideas concerning this ship.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. because… I just don't.**

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She'd always been particularly enthusiastic, cheerful, and optimistic even. She tried to make the best of things even in the most intense of situations; she was agreeably the friendliest person on the entire plane and also, she had patience. Coupled with her genius mind, she was the only person on planet earth who was the right fit.

Yet, even the most patient people tend to have a breaking point.

They were working in the lab together as per the norm every half past ten in the morning. She took a sip from her coffee cup before examining the structure of a device they'd found in a small research facility in Maryland alongside him. She passed him anything special that she was able to dissect, but said not a single word.

He looked up at her from time to time, trying to figure out why she wasn't speaking to him. It surprised him that she hadn't even said good morning or any greeting whatsoever like she usually did. There was something off about her; she was a bright and important light and someone had suddenly flicked the switch.

"You alright there, Simmons?" He asked and all he received was a small, almost imperceptible, nod. That was enough to assure him that something was very off about her indeed. She'd always been a sort of anthology to him, a collection of art and music, except she did it all while speaking his language: science.

He'd never seen a day when her heart and soul weren't in her work in the lab, even after all the years they'd spent together as partners. There was an air about her as she worked that told you that she actually enjoyed working her arse off. He figured that it took a rather large and unusual distraction to throw her off her usual focus.

"What's going on with you?" He questioned her and she gave him a stern look that almost rivalled May's. She was pissed off about something, but he had no clue what. He tried to recall if he'd done anything the day or night before that could've made her so angry, but nothing came to mind.

Before he could say or think, she turned on her heel and walked out of the lab with the entire structure of the device dissected and its parts ready for him to examine. The cogs in his brain tried to think of any possible explanation for her behavior and came up with nothing whatsoever.

An irritable Jemma Simmons was not a pleasant person to deal with.

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It was almost unbearable for him to go a few hours in the lab without anyone to talk to; Simmons if I'm to be specific. He always had someone to explain things to and without her in the lab; there was no one who would have the patience, the experience and the knowledge to listen to his rambling.

He'd spent the entirety of two hours wonderinig about what exactly he'd done to make her act in that way. There was no obvious explanation for her behavior and it made him want to scream. It made him utterly frustrated that there was something he didn't know about her that he should have.

After deciding that there was no way he could understand the inner workings of his partner's mind, he made himself a sandwich and joined Skye for lunch in the common area. Normally, he would've said something completely awkward that would ruin everything, but his brain was still racing.

He was in the middle of chewing his sandwich when he realized that Skye was staring at him as if he'd grown an extra two arms. He figured that it would pass after a while, but when she was still staring five minutes later, he raised his eyebrows at her; an unspoken question.

"I'm sorry," She apologized after she realized that she'd been staring in the first place. "It just feels really weird seeing you without Simmons. It looks a lot like seeing half a body walking around the streets of New York."

The thought of half a body alone was enough to nauseate him and he quickly put down his sandwich on the table. "She's pissed with me for something," He replied and looked around, almost expecting to see her behind him. She wasn't there and he felt an unexpected disappointment. "No clue as to why, though."

Skye tapped her chin, trying to think. He was surprised that he didn't think of it after all that time he'd spent pondering. Despite being her best mate, she was still a girl and he still found that part of her rather difficult to figure out. Enlisting the help of another female meant having a deeper understanding.

"My guess is that she needs you." She spoke with a shrug of her shoulders after a moment of thinking. He was utterly confused by the inner workings of Skye's mind as well. It must've been why he was so awkward around women. "Girls like to hide the fact that there's something wrong when all they really need is help."

"Yeah, but she won't even talk to me!" He exclaimed exasperatedly, pulling at his hair while he leaned forward in his chair. "I tried to ask her what was wrong and she walked out on me! It's practically basic evolution in pre-industrial England all over again."

She opened her mouth as if to ask what happened in pre-industrial England, but thought better of it, considering that she was speaking to a constantly rambling rocket scientist. "If she won't talk to you about this, I doubt she's going to talk to anyone else. She either needs space or a confrontation."

He rolled over all the possibilities in his mind. Leaving her alone was a wise decision, but also an impossible one. They were Fitzsimmons and being a team just left no room for giving one another space. The inevitability of them having to speak to each other at some point was a pressing problem in the given solution.

The latter option seemed to be unappealing; he did not want to have to go through talking about anything too uncomfortable or awkward with her. Yet, something was telling him that such a sarcrifice was needed in order to repair their relationship. The thought of it left him queasy and once again, nauseated.

"I know it's none of my business," Skye said, snapping him out of the world of thoughts that he'd immersed himself in. "But I'm really curious and there's no way for you to shake me off of your trail. Is there something going on between you and Simmons?"

He breathed out a heavy sigh before staring down at his half-eaten food. "I don't know anymore."

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There was really no way for either of them to avoid encountering each other in the lab for the rest of the day, a fact that he was thankful for. This meant that he no longer had to trap her in a corner or anything like that just so he could speak to her, something that he was in no way willing to do.

From time to time, he looked up from making minor modifications to a grenade to look at his partner who sat in the station across him. She busied herself with creating a gas that would induce hallucinations and eventually knock out the target that the grenade would be containing.

He wanted to speak up, to say something to her just so that he could hear her voice again. Yet, nothing ever came out of his mouth. His brain was telling him to focus first on the grenade, but he just couldn't; not when she wasn't making banter with him as they always did. It just didn't feel right to be alone.

Time passed without him noticing and before long, she removed her goggles. A certain urgency overcame him and he realized that he'd have to talk to her before she left, lest he spend the next day not being spoken to by the only person he really needed to talk to.

"Simmons," He said as she began to pack her stuff. She paused for a moment before continuing to put her papers in neat piles, an indication that she'd heard him. "Can we just talk about this for a moment? I don't even know what's going on with you and it's getting very frustrating."

She turned to him and he smiled at the sight of her glare. She never really managed anything beyond a stern look because everyone was just much too used to her cheerful smile; so all in all, he found her glare to be nothing more than another adorable sight.

"Stop smiling at me, Fitz!" She snapped at him and the sound made him wince ever so slightly. There had never come a time when he'd ever have to face such wrath. She was constantly annoyed and irritated by many of his actions, but she'd never been truly angry with him. "Please just stop looking at me altogether."

"It might be a lot easier for me to do that if you told me what was wrong."

He was greeted by another glare and he found that the expression became less and less amusing to him over the seconds that continued to pass. She shook her head and continued to shuffle the papers on the desk of her station. "It's nothing we need to talk about, Fitz." She replied politely, seeming a little bit more like herself.

"Yes, it is," He said and walked over to her, not without bumping into the table in the center of the lab. He'd always been somewhat of a klutz. "There's something wrong with you and I want to talk about it. I might be able to help you, you never-"

"You can't!" She cut him off with the closest thing she could manage to a yell. He could see that her eyes were beginning to grow glassy and other observations suddenly came to light. Her hair was slightly disheveled, the bags under her eyes had grown and she was losing her usual glow. "You just can't help me with this."

"But what if I can?" He protested and tried to take one of her hands, but she quicly pulled it out of his grasp. She had never done that to him and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't in the least bit offended by such an action. He just didn't understand anything about the whole thing and it made him feel blind.

She stalked out of the lab, but he wasn't ready to give up on the argument. He followed her out of the room, rattling off questions like they were playing a guessing game. "Did I offend you or anything? Did I forget to do something? Was there something I said to you yesterday? Did I do something wrong?"

She came to a full stop in the common area and turned to face him, making him almost crash right into her. They were no more than an inch apart and they could hear each other are breathing. He saw something in her eyes, an uncontrollable flame.

"Yes, you did something wrong, you lunatic with an irregular thinking process!" She yelled at him and he was aware that everyone was peeking out from wherever they were to see what was going on between them. Truth be told, he completely understood. He would have been intrigued to if he weren't part of the row.

"Tell me then." His voice was as gentle as he could possibly manage and he wished that she would try to level with him. He watched as she calmed down, the stressed expression on her face relaxing slowly. He said nothing else, hoping that another word would be pushing it too far.

She looked around and became aware of everyone who wanted to see the scene. The room suddenly felt much too big for her and she took his hand, leading her to her bunk where she believed was a much more appropriate place for them to talk about the pressing matter that she knew they'd inevitably have to talk about.

The moment he slid the door shut behind them, she began pacing around the extremely small space that they had. He decided to sit on her bed and give her time to think of the words that would be coming out of her mouth. He tried to push out any possiblities from his mind, but they continued to resurface.

"I was trying to avoid you today because I didn't want you to see me."

"What?" The puzzled look on his face made her take a deep breath, knowing that he was never going to let her go with only half an explanation. She continued to pace, searching for the right words to explain what was going on with her.

At some point, she began to cry and the entire thing took him by surprise. He'd never been particularly good with people, most especially women, but he knew her and he tried his best to rack his brain for anything to do. After all, he was the only person who really knew him.

He took her hand and let her sit on the bed beside him. Their fingers remained intertwined as she laid her head on his shoulder, comfort and relief spreading throughout her body at the contact. The silence was a bearable one, comfortable even, and he waited until she was ready to speak.

"You're going to think I'm bloody stupid."

"Try me."

The sight of their interlaced fingers made him realize that for a couple of geniuses, they were rather ridiculous in ther endeavors. He ran his thumb over her hand, urging her to talk to him about whatever her problem with him was. The gnawing feeling, the urgency to find out was tamed by their situation.

"Remember when Skye first got here?" He nodded. "I saw the way you looked at her and at first; I thought that it would pass because such things do in most men. I got so frustrated when you continued to try and try, it was like you were in a trance. Then I realized that I wasn't just plain jealous."

"I was jealous of the way you looked at her and spoke to her because you just seemed so enthralled. You like the way she doesn't play it safe, how she's reckless. It makes me feel horrible because I'm nothing like that. It makes me feel like after everything we've been through, I'm not enough to capture your attention."

"It hurts because I want to be special to you and I want you to look at me like that."

The entirety of the revelation just about fried his brain to bits. Not only was the confession unexpected, but it was also something he highly ever doubted would happen. Now that it had, it seemed as if things were beginning to click into place for them.

"Never say that you aren't enough for me." He spoke in a voice no louder than a whisper and it somehow helped her breathe. "You're right about me liking Skye because she's reckless and that's really different from anything anyone ever does around here, but she's nothing more than an infatuation."

He held her hand tighter in his as he continued to reassure her. "You fascinate me in ways nobody ever has. You talk and understand the things I say and that amazes me. You have the patience of a Jedi master," She lauged lightly at this. "And you keep me in control. And never tell me you aren't beautiful."

He wanted to throw any insecurity she had out the cargo hold because he believed she was perfect. He knew that it was never going to be enough for one person to say that she was amazing, but he knew that he was definitely a start. There was nothing she could do to convince him she wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Many words remained unspoken, but when she looked the infectious smile that graced his lips, everything was in his face. She could see everything he wanted her to know and it was enough to remind her of everything that he'd said.

There was a moment of hesitance before she kissed him, but by the time her lips touched his, any and all insecurities were put out of her mind. He brushed a strand of her hair back and pulled her slightly closer. It was the kiss to end all fights.

When they pulled apart, she saw the smirk on his face. "So, you fancy me, huh?" He teased and she elbowed him in the gut, not hard enough to hurt him.

"Oh shut up, Fitz."


	3. Normal People

**I swear, I'm giving myself cavities at this point. I never planned to write the lab part of this story, it was just something that suddenly came to mind. I very much like the introduction of this story and yeah, well that's about it. Please review because I don't have many reviews but your reviews make me so happy. Almost enough to feel warm and fuzzy inside. Thank you though to those who reviewed either/both of my last two oneshots!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. because if I did, Fitz would have a monkey and we'd get more scenes of these two spectacular characters.**

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They were Fitzsimmons.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a couple are "two persons paired together". Dictionaries give you nothing but definitions, never the deeper meaning of things. They are references, not books that are used when you know that something runs as deep as the blood in your veins.

Although, the dictionary is admittedly correct. Their partnership ran deep, enough for me to go to the lengths of saying that they were almost completely dependent on one another's presence. Let's highlight that one word in that sentence: almost.

They were two separate people, entities if you will, that practically needed each other to function properly. The two of them were a well-oiled machine and fact is that without the other, they were but extremely rare parts; so you see, they weren't exactly worthless on their own. They were just worth more together.

The thing about variation is that it makes you different from someone else. The difference might not be huge, but it's still wholly significant. It separates you, puts you apart from everybody else. That's the reason why we all keep saying that we're all special in our own ways. Cliché, yes, but also true in my opinion.

Let's go back to Fitzsimmons. As I said before, they were two different entities, people who could work great on their own but relied on one another as to become better. This also gave room for different opinions, different thoughts that made them distinct.

As they sat atop the kitchen counter at half past eleven in the evening with cups of tea in their hands, she couldn't help but think of those distinct differences. She wanted to voice something out to him, a thought that she'd been holding in for so long. What she feared the most was what his reaction would be to her inquiry.

"Hey Leo," She said, disturbing the silence between them. He looked at her and set his cup down beside him. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren't a genius? Just be a regular person like everybody else, I mean?"

She looked at him and she saw that he was taken aback by such a question. It really wasn't something that she was supposed to be pondering on, but she couldn't exactly help the thoughts that entered her mind in her spare time. These were the kinds of questions that she needed a second opinion on.

"Well," He said and coughed into his hand. She laughed slightly, glad that he was still as awkward as ever. When they'd met five years before, he was exactly the same awkward person as he was at that moment. It made her glad. "I didn't right up until you asked. Why are you asking anyway?"

"I don't know," She said with a shrug and she found that those three words were ones that she did not say quite often. It seemed as if the two of them knew just about everything, but truth was that they really didn't. "Being in the field makes some things clearer, but it blurs up other things too."

He nodded in understanding and moved closer to her, as if he knew that she was cold. Their sides touched and knees bumped against one another; a feeling that was surprisingly comfortable. Their proximity was reassuring, telling her that she'd never be alone in her little battles.

"What would you do if you were a regular person?"

She stared down at the contents of her cup, still half-full; or half-empty, all depending on your perspective. The question caused her to start thinking coherently again, all thoughts of a life outside S.H.I.E.L.D. or outside the lab flooding her mind in an instant.

"I don't know." She replied and somehow, they both knew that it was going to be her answer. "I keep trying to imagine myself in somebody elses life, someone elses shoes; but it just doesn't work. It's like wearing a Halloween costume, a lie. All of it's just a silhouette."

"Exactly," He said in that almost infuriating matter-of-fact voice of his. She took another sip from her cup and he reached for her empty hand. She let him take it, feeling her own hand fit snugly in his. "You're a twenty three year old girl with the ability to explain the function of every element in the periodic table without giving it a single glance."

She gave him a look and he gestured to their intertwined fingers. "You see this?" He told her, trying his best to make a point. "This is who we both are and I think you're damn great. Better than most girls, scratch that, people, who are our age. I don't see why you'd ever want to be anyone but you."

"I know," It came from her out as a breath. She was thankful for all his reassurance and the fact that he thought that she was an amazing person made her feel a lot better about herself. "But wouldn't you want to see what it's like to just be normal for once?"

He sighed heavily before draining the rest of his cup and hopping off of the counter. "Where are you going?" She asked and let him help her down. "What's going on, Leo?"

"I'm going to show you something."

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The plane was silent, but he continued to rustle around in the lab as if it was only two in the afternoon. As she sat in a chair behind him, a smile graced her lips at the sight of him. It was fun watching him work, bouncing around like an excited eight year old boy.

"Keep talking," He said, snapping her out of her thoughts while he continued to play around with the computer connected to the holographic projector. "It helps me think when you're talking. You've been doing it for five years, I can't live without it anymore."

"What are you doing anyway?" She asked, intrigued by whatever the two of them were doing in the lab. It wasn't odd for him to drag her down there to show her something, but after the discussion they'd had only minutes before, she had become utterly curious.

"You said you wanted to see what it's like to be normal for once?" He said without turning around to look at her. His fingers typed with extreme speed and precision, something that she fully enjoyed watching him do. "Well, I want to give you that chance."

Her mind could not process the sight in front of her at first. After a moment, she realized that they were looking at a S.H.I.E.L.D. feed in Glasgow, the place where he'd grown up. She watched the hustle and bustle of the city, listened to the sounds of car horns and the sound of people talking and laughing on the streets.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He said and reached out his hand as if to touch it. He quickly withdrew and she saw the disappointment etched in his face before putting a smile back on for her. "These are those so called 'normal people' as they live their 'normal lives'."

She laughed at his quotation marks and the sound seemed to make his smile grow wider. There were many dangers being in the field so they treasured every lighthearted moment, every single one of pure happiness and bliss that they could possibly take. It was one of the few gifts that they could receive.

"These people we're watching," He spoke, more to himself than to her. "Are living lives like ours. They may not have to examine alien metal or create equipment for men like Agent Ward, but they've got their own problems too. Some of them might have it worse than others."

She admired the beauty of the city and it wondered about her partner. She turned to look at him without his noticing as his eyes busied themselves with looking at the city he longed for. It really was no wonder that he missed a place as amazing as Glasgow.

"I can't blame you for missing it," She thought aloud and he looked at her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a spark, a fire missing there that she was so used to seeing. "It seems like such an amazing place to live in. No wonder you love it over there."

"I do miss Glasgow," He replied with a shrug before turning back to the projection in front of them. "But you brought me here into the field and even if we've had more close calls with death than I can count, I think being here's a lot better than living some normal life."

"How so?"

"Are you kidding?" He exclaimed enthusiastically and she had to laugh at the tone of excitement in his voice. "Look at all the stuff we get to work with here, the places we see, the things we get to do! It's like a deadly Christmas every bloody day!"

And without thinking, she pulled him in. She doesn't know where her courage came from, but she figured that he was right about having far too many close brushes with death, just enough to make her stronger or at least think that she was stronger.

He froze but she was there in his arms and he let himself pull her in closer, enough to savour every sweet second that their lips touched. He could feel her arms around his neck and it just felt right, almost perfect.

She pulled away and her eyes were like butterflies as they fluttered open before him. He stared at her, a priceless smile on his lips. He leaned her forehead against hers, feeling safe from every threat that the world would throw them.

"Glasgow isn't home. Fitzsimmons is."


	4. Thank You, David Levithan

**Okay, the book I used in this is one that I read last year, but it's something I continously read because it's just that brilliant. I haven't posted in two days because I've been making cupcakes and well, I thought you guys didn't like it because you weren't reviewing. A friend of mine read it and said the last three were pretty great so I decided to continue anyway. Please review even if you've followed or favourite the story because I really love reviews. Also, please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes because I never read what I write before posting it. I have no excuse, I'm just really lazy.**

**Also, I HAVE ACTUAL (SORT OF) PROOF THAT FITZSIMMONS SURVIVED EPISODE 6 & 7! Ming-Na posted a picture on Twitter of the cast and I'm quite sure that they're already filming either episode 8 or 9 and the whole cast was there SO YEAH SURVIVORS AND I'M JUST SCREAMING. But if this is just a trick, I swear I'm going to stab someone. On a better note…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan. Anything that I quoted directly from the book is italicized. ENJOY!**

If you're reading this, I'm guessing that you probably like books as well. They're hauntingly beautiful; in such a way that they transport you to a different place, era and even an imaginary world. I believe that this is the best gift a writer can ever give a reader: an escape to somewhere you never even knew you wanted to go.

It was only during quiet evenings when they weren't on missions that she ever got to read a good book. Something about the practice was wholly private, something that she just couldn't share to anyone. There was always one tucked underneath her pillow and there were several others hidden under her bed.

There were certain moments when there were books good enough to distract her from her own work. There are just things that can make us overthink despite the willpower that we know we possess. As I said before, they are an escape. That is what stories have always been meant for.

Little by little, she'd become engrossed in a single book. It was not a particularly lengthy one, but it was one that required much thought and much courage to read. The uncertainty she'd felt during the duration of her first time reading it disappeared the moment she'd closed it after the hours she'd spent pondering over the author's wise words.

There was a sudden knock on her door, a sound that pulled her out of a world that she'd practically buried herself in. It took a second knock for her to completely snap out of her thoughts. She squinted as she looked at the tinted glass, trying to see the figure on the other side.

"Simmons, it's just me!"

The sound of his voice was a reassuring one and it brought her a relief that she did not know that she even needed. She did not think about why he was there at a quarter to midnight or even check the time. All that mattered was that he'd actually come to her door without her asking.

She didn't have to say anything for him to know that it was alright to come in. The door slid open and she saw him standing there in the doorway in his usual flannel shirt and jeans. He looked the same as he always did, yet something about him seeing her as her face loomed over her book felt different.

Blood rose to his cheeks as he saw that she was laid on her stomach, dressed in her pajama shorts and a sweater that slid off of her shoulders. She rolled her eyes at him, knowing that such situtations were best avoided. "I'm permitting you to move now." She said with mock authority and he coughed into his hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured that the chances of you being busy were slim considering that we're on a plane 30,000 above the ground," He said and scratched the back of his neck. "But since you're currently hunched over a book, I'm guessing this is one of the rare times when I'm wrong."

She shook her head, the straight line of her lips curving into her usual smile. "You're not interrupting anything." She assured him, her voice neither impolite nor unkind. "But don't let the fact that you're correct add to your already gigantic ego, Fitz."

A comfortable and unexpected silence filled the bunk as soon as he slid the door closed and sat on her bed. She scanned the pages of her book and she could swear that his eyes asked the questions that his mouth would not translate. "It's The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan."

No one would have pegged her for a woman who'd read such books, but only he knew her so well as to see past the genius. In all reality, she was just like every other girl, still hoping for fantasies that were best left to only the imagination. Yet, some part of him wanted to make such naïve dreams a reality.

"Why that?"

"If you must know," She replied in a matter-of-fact voice when she saw the cocked eyebrow on his face. "It's a rather brilliant book and anyone would do the world some good just by reading it. I don't think you would understand it though, it's out of your depth."

He pressed a hand to his chest and feigned hurt. "A book? Out of MY depth?" He said and she elbowed him playfully in the gut. "You're being absolutely ridiculous Jemma Simmons. I would have expected a lot better from you."

"You're a bloody idiot." She said, but her voice was more affectionate than anything. An even wider smile graced his lips and she felt the need to keep the conversation running as long as she possibly could. "If you don't believe me, then I could just quote some lines to you. It's not as if I mind doing so."

He gestured for her to do just that and she searched the book for one of the many lines that she'd highlighted. After spotting one that she deemed good enough to read to him, she ran her finger along it. Something about the line was precious and rare; the book itself was a display of pure emotion.

"_Does every 'I love you' deserve an 'I love you too'? Does every kiss deserve a kiss back? Does every night deserve to be spent on a lover? If the answer to any of these is 'No', what do we do?_"

The lines were one of her many favourites from the book, one that she'd pondered on for many hours. She closed it and looked at him as he searched her face, as if the answer to David Levithan's question was right there. And in some way, it was.

"What do you think?"

"I don't think that every I love you deserves an I love you back," He began before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear absentmindedly. "I don't think every kiss deserves one back and not every night deserves to be spent on a lover. You know what I believe?"

She continued to stare at him, her eyes already asking him the questions that remained unheard to their ears. "I think it's the person who deserves all those things. It depends on them, who they are and who all of this is in context to. If we're talking about you, then you deserve everything that will make you happy."

"_The kiss I like,_" She quoted without giving it a second thought. "_Is one of the slow ones. It's as much breath as touch, as much no as yes. You lean in from the side, and I have to turn a little to make it happen._"

She felt his fingertips brush over his face as lightly as his lips brushed her own. It was tentative, a request to open a door that had remained closed to both of them for so long. There was something about the way he did it that made them feel like the world just stopped spinning for a moment; for them and for only them.

The moment she relaxed, it felt like something extremely pleasant had been injected into her bloodstream. He tasted of popcorn and chocolate and it drove her absolutely insane. It was almost as if she'd been looking for something for so long and she found it when she wasn't trying.

He helped her turn so she was propped onto her elbows while he leaed forward some more, the curls of her hair lightly tickling his cheeks. It was a pleasant feeling and there was something about the entire situation that made him feel as if their partnership had led up to that one single moment.

He pulled away and took her hands, intertwining her fingers as she leaned forward to press her lips right next to his ear. "Can I quote you something else?" She whispered like a child and he nodded.

"_I want you to spend the night,_" She whispered and he knew that she didn't mean that she wanted to sleep with him. It was something so much more gentle, a mere request to stay for the comfort and relief. He nodded once more and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and his jeans to the ground, leaving him in only his boxers and a grey undershirt. She flicked off the switch and buried her face in her own pillow as he did the same with her hair. They didn't adjust quickly, but it was in a way, comfortable.

"I know that you didn't finish that last quote." He said before letting his arms circle around her.

She took a deep breath and smiled, even if she knew he could not see it.

"_But I loved the notion that the night was mine to spend, and I immediately decided to spend it on you._"


	5. What We Can't Comprehend

**I don't particularly like this one but I'm just so excited about episode six plus I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Is anyone else scared about what's going to happen? I have a Biology mid-term on the day of the premiere and I'm just so afraid that I'm going to fail because of Fitzsimmons. I did not choose this life, they sucked me into it with no chance of escape. Also, thank you for the many kind and wonderful reviews for the last one and please review this one as well. I hope you guys enjoy this and… that's it.**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. because if I did, I'd probably lose it the way I lose just about everything I own.**

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Everyone else viewed them as a slightly oblivious pair of geniuses, blind in a certain sense. The team would watch them flirt while the two of them weren't even close to being aware of it being flirting at all. Skye, out of all of them, found that this was one of the more enjoyable activities aboard the BUS.

In spite of their both being rather incognizant, the opportunity to observe the others and drink in the little details of their actions was one that they could not pass up. They would take note of the small things, such as the way Coulson spoke to his former associates or the way May let closely imperceptible displays of emotion slip through her cracks.

When their spare time was not being spent on watching movies and TV shows or spending time apart for themselves, they discussed such observations while coming up with rational hypotheses. They would sit wherever they deemed comfortable and talk about all of it; preferably over alcohol that neither could hold in too well.

The cargo hold had been rather empty that night and so they sat there with a can of red Guinness for each of them. As much as they possibly could, they steered clear of Lola, knowing full well that any contact was a death wish; neither were particularly fond of the thought of death, especially from Coulson.

"So," She took a sip from her can before a smile made its way onto its face. It was the kind of smile that just doesn't appear when one is completely sober. "I know it's a sensitive subject considering your infatuation with Skye, but have you noticed the sexual tension between her and Ward?"

He scoffed and moved closer to her, their legs getting entangled in the process. They didn't necessarily care about what their position looked like as long as they were comfortable with it. "Blasted Ward could piss off for all I care," He said but she could tell it was a half-hearted attempt. "It's just like you said though, just an infatuation."

"We weren't talking about you, Fitz," She said and let a euphonious laugh escape her lips. It was a pleasant sound, like a child playing with wind chimes, and he enjoyed hearing such a carefree lilt. "I was talking about the two of them. Have you ever noticed anything… strange about them?"

Memories of witnessed interactions between the hacker and her S.O. fluttered about his mind like Polaroids set free in the wind. He thought of the way she toned down her actions around him and in turn, he tried his best to be a decent human being around her. He remembered the way she addressed him, her tone becoming softer, more subtle even.

"It's none of our business," He told her and noticed they look that his partner was giving him. Leaning forward, he began to play with the little tendrils of hair that framed her face. "But I guess they do act pretty weird around one another."

"Weird?" She repeated and threw her hands in the air, so that he'd have to withdraw his hand as she spilled some of her drink onto the floor. "They fancy each other! They're so bloody different from one another, so unlike that it poses as something appealing, attractive, almost luring."

"I think that's amazing," She admitted to him and she could feel his eyes on him as his hand came back to play with her hair as it did only seconds before. His look was not one of judgement, but she could feel him trying to figure her out. "How people can be so different and just…" She snapped her fingers. "Click."

"It's different for you because you're a bleeding hopeless romantic at heart."

She laughed at the way he brushed it off. "We could have used their circumstances for a social experiment," She joked as a rather wistful expression made its way onto her face. "But I highly doubt testing them for dopamine and norepinephrine would count for much."

The question of why was one that needn't be voiced. No amount of scientific formulas or specific measurement of chemicals would ever substitute for the explanation of emotions and feelings. They just didn't seem to work the way that science did; all the more difficult for the two of them to understand.

As much as they tried to wrap their heads around one of the few things in the world that they could not comprehend, all they did was get lost in those thoughts. The silence continued to stretch on between them, both too preoccupied and distracted by their thoughts to say anything.

"I guess the thing about emotions," She spoke up. "Is that they were never really meant to be understood."

He nodded in agreement, observing the way she was speaking more to herself than him. It seemed odd, like she was trying to hide something in her words that he could not find. The implication that she didn't want him to find out disappointed him.

"But what is the human race," He took his hand away from her hair and made a dramatic gesture. "If not infuriatingly curious?"

She nodded in agreement as the wide smile of insouciance returned. "Here's a toast," She announced and raised her can in the air. "To insufferably curious beings like us and those bleeding horrid mysteries that we call emotions!"

Their cans touched and laughter echoed off the walls, a sound that pleased them both. What fascinated them most about their relationship was that they did not have need to understand anything. It only mattered to them how wonderful it felt to work together and how good they were at all of it. The reassurance and promise of happiness was enough.

She sighed and moved forward so that her knee was pressing slightly against his chest. "This has proved to be a wonderful evening," She said sincerely, eyes alight with a certain warmth that she seemed to reserve for him. "And I don't think it could be any better."

"Oh, yes it can."

Before he had time to figure out where his newly found courage was coming from, his lips were already pressed against hers. They both tried to convince themselves that it was just one of the effects of the alcohol, but could not help but hope that it wasn't the case. All it ever did was strengthen a desire to do what they'd always wanted.

He cupped the side of her face, moving closer to her than he ever dared to think about before that moment. He'd always thought of her as a fragile person, beautiful and strong but not fearless. The way she continued to kiss him drove him right out of his mind and any coherent thoughts were thrown out of the BUS.

In his opinion, it was over much too soon. She rubbed a spot at the back of his neck as if she knew that it would make him close his eyes. "You're right," She whispered, her voice drifting off into the night. "This night did get even better."

He stretched out his legs and she laid her head on his lap, staring at the ceiling above. The air around them had changed, but it was exactly the same. Their feelings continued to grow, but they still didn't need to understand a single thing. Feeling good was enough.

"You know what else clicks, Simmons?"

"What?"

"Us."

"You're a bleeding dork, Fitz."


	6. You've Been Beside Me

**I don't believe I have to explain to you why this oneshot made me an emotional wreck. Episode six was perfect and I love the fact that we got to see just how deep their love for each other really runs. It's not the kind of love that's all, "Let's have sex!" or "I saw you one minute then I fell in love with you." That kind of just makes them perfect. Plus I think Iain and Elizabeth did an amazing job with stabbing us repeatedly. Thanks a lot, Joss!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. because the show would be horrid if I did.**

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"_It wasn't Ward giving me hope when I had none. It was you."_

Relief. In one word, all he could feel was relief. It was in his bones, in his blood and in his brain.

He remembered the way he watched her through the glass doors, feeling her slip away from him with every nanosecond that passed them by. The screaming left his throat raw and he could feel his heart pounding and sinking at the same time, but all he could focus on was the sorry look in her eyes.

There had never been a sadder sight, a more depressing and nightmare inducing one, than seeing her fall out of the cargo hold like nothing but a rag doll. There was the overpowering sound of the wind and he could still hear himself screaming over it, but there was nothing left.

For a moment, he'd been blinded by the pain that hurt like no other pain can ever hurt you. It was a mixture of grief, hopelessness and anger, a feeling best left not encountered. He continued to scream her name, hoping that she'd come back to him; but she couldn't, not all on her own.

He was a man (or is boy a more proper term?) of intellect, one with a vocabulary which only she could ever match. Yet, he could only hear himself muttering things like, "It's going to be fine, Jemma." and "My Jemma." like a mental ward patient; not that he cared.

The moment she stepped back into the BUS, soaking wet from falling into the Atlantic, he could feel the tears in his eyes again. No sound was as pleasant as her voice, no sight better than seeing her stand in front of him. She'd basically returned to him from the dead.

There were no words to express his relief and I don't believe that there will ever be any. He opened his mouth but nothing would come out, not a single one. All he could focus on was her as her tears mingled with the water on her face.

There truly were no words.

She pulled him into a hug and he felt relief once more upon knowing that it wasn't all just a grief induced hallucination. He could feel her arms around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder, her tears soaking through his shirt. It was all the reassurance he needed to know that she was alive.

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"_You're the hero."_

Every comforting and reassuring word, the feeling of her lips against his cheek, all engraved into his brain the very second it all happened. The moment had been short, a conversation that anyone could forget; but it was so much more than that to him.

He could not help but feel indignant due to Ward not letting him save her. Despite his lack of experience with jumping out of planes, he could not help but feel as if it was his duty, his obligation. He was obligated to save her because she was his Jemma.

Yet, in that passing yet precious moment, she'd told him that he was the hero. There was never any need to doubt with her. She always got the job done right as long as he was in the picture. Things like that were the things that they couldn't get through alone.

He was _her _hero.

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"_Thank you."_

There was truly no way to avoid a sleepless night after the occurences of the day's traumatic events. No amount of tossing and turning, no amount of time staring up at the pristine white ceiling would help him fall asleep. He never really wanted to sleep at all in the first place; nightmares were definitely waiting.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up in his bed. The night seemed much too cold and the warmth of the blanket did not suffice. The sudden realization hit him the way that the Night-Night Pistol would; the bed felt empty and so did he.

He didn't put much thought into opening her bunk's door without knocking; he knew how he would find her. She laid on her side, back facing away from him, in the same clothes that she was wearing a few hours before when they'd spoken in his bunk. It was almost as if Skye were correct about them being psychically linked.

"I knew you'd come here." She said and turned her head slightly to look at him. He saw the stains of tears on her cheeks and why they were there, he had absolutely no idea; but the smile on her face was gorgeous and genuine. Furthermore, it was reserved for him.

She patted the spot beside her on the bed before he switched off the lights. He slid the door shut before laying down beside her, trying to see her figure in the dark. There were shapes and contours and the silhouette was enough for him to be certain that she was right there; he didn't need to be afraid.

They didn't touch but he knew that she was quaking. The sound of her crying was another heartbreak for him to endure, especially since he believed that she had shed her fair share of tears that day; but he was afraid to stop it. It was, in her words, perfectly natural to be afraid.

"Just so you know," He continued to stare at her figure. "You eluded death today."

A shaky laugh, practically nothing more than a breath, escaped her lips. It was a mellifluous sound, almost hypnotic. He'd always brought her solace, despite his being almost egotistic at certain times. It was the foundation of an amazing relationship and a perfect team..

"Leave it to you to make the jokes." She meant for her words to come out as lighthearted, but they came out as a croak. He winced and waited for a few moments for her to continue crying.

He laid a hand on her waist lightly, asking for her consent. She moved closer to him and into his embrace, a protective barrier against anything and everything that could have ever harmed her. There was nothing more consoling than the contact that they shared.

"Thank you, Fitz." She managed in between snivels as his fingers drew endless constellations and complex formulas on her skin. "You risked your life to save me when I was hopeless and I thought that you couldn't solve the problem, but you did."

"We did." He corrected and she laughed again.

"We did." She repeated and a smile graced her face like a memory of yesterday. "When I knocked you out a while ago, it wasn't because I wanted you to watch me die. I did it because I knew that you'd never let me go and even when I did jump, you remained so bloody determined to save me. Why?"

Silence filled the bunk and they listened to the quiet humming of the air conditioning system. On normal evenings, they would have complained about the design. On that particular one, it was a comforting noise to listen to, one that told them that they were alive and together.

"I told you that you were beside me the whole damn time," He replied after a few moments of deep thought. "And I'm so used to hearing you and seeing you and just being with you. How do you expect me to live without the only person I have ever depended on?"

His confession was like a prayer, a child's whisper in the night. The very thought of him trusting her to such an extent that he would risk everything to save her; it shattered her into a million pieces. She was a burden and a blessing to him and there was no way in hell that he was going to let her go.

"Fitz, I'm so sorry." She said and sobbed while burying herself in his embrace even more. He held onto her tighter, urging her to continue whatever it was she was about to say. "Asking you to follow me anywhere has always been subtext. I always knew that you were going to go with me."

"And I'm going to keep following you." He whispered into her ear, the tickling sensation making her giggle slightly. "I don't care if we end up crashing into the Pacific, I'm not leaving. You're going to stay beside me and I'm never going to let you get away from me ever again."

And as the evening turned quiet, they could both feel themselves drift off to the land of sleep. She turned her head slightly to press a chaste kiss on his lips, nothing more than a peck; but it was the greatest kiss that either of had ever received.

And the next day, they worked together; just like they always did.


	7. Unheard But Understood

**Ugh, I was supposed to post this last Wednesday, but I was busy with my school fair. Definitely not my best work, but I enjoyed writing this. Also… SQUEAL FITZSIMMONS SQUEAL. That episode was packed with things for us to think/write about and if Elizabeth does not stop favouriting tweets about Caestridge/Fitzsimmons, we may as well get ready to combust. Anyway…**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Marvel… Yup, that's it.**

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He tried his very best to recall the exact words he'd used with her before he'd left for the mission. He remembered saying something along the lines of not doing anything rash like jumping out of an aeroplane; that was memory that he tucked away under lock and key.

Truth be told, he knew that it couldn't really be helped if she got herself into trouble. Such circumstances were becoming more and more common in their field of work, making it increasingly difficult to keep themselves out of siutations that put them in harm's way.

Yet, the words that escaped her lips were not at all expected nor were they ones that he particularly wanted to hear. He spotted the excited little smile on her lips just as his own gentle and tired one faded away in an instant. Whatever joy she felt was not one that he seemed to share.

"Could you say that again? I don't think I heard you correctly." He said, his voice seeming to be nothing more than a squeak of disbelief to his own ears.

"I shot a superior officer in the chest!" She repeated with even more hints of pride and joy creeping into her voice. The dumbfounded look on his face practically demanded her to roll her eyes. "Oh come on Fitz, it's not like I killed anybody. It was just the Night-Night pistol."

The last few words brought him a slight sense of relief, yet the entirety of the situation continued to leave him shellshocked and at a loss for words. There was something about her doing such a thing that left him that way. He stood there for a few moments with his mouth opening and closing, making him look like a fish.

"Where- how- who- why- what?!" The last word came out louder than he'd intended, making her slightly anxious about having to explain the events that led up to the said incident. It proved to be difficult to map out such thoughts in her head when it was finally time to explain herself.

"Well," She looked down at her hands as she twiddled her thumbs. "Me and Skye had to find a wall panel so that she could hack into the mainframe and get information about your mission, but it was in a restricted hallway. Agent Sitwell caught me and I tried to flirt with him but-"

"Wait, stop for a moment," He raised a hand and she pursed her lips together. "You actually tried to flirt with Agent Sitwell?"

"Tried is the key word in that sentence." She pointed out and gave him a stern look when she saw him trying to hold back his laughter. "I didn't have any other choice but to shoot him with the Night-Night pistol. It wasn't ideal, but we got you out alive, didn't we?"

She didn't think about the last few words before saying them and the thought of the phrase silenced them both. The thought of either of them dying wasn't an appealing one neither was it welcome. It was another reminder that it was almost impossible to live without each other.

He racked his brain for something to say to her as he listened to the buzzing and humming of their equipment around them. All he wanted was to tell her that he was extremely thankful for the extraction and that he was glad that they were both alive; but the words wouldn't leave his lips.

"It's beyond my comprehension why even the tiniest group of people couldn't be sent to get you out of there," She voiced her thoughts and he let out a small sigh. "It's not as if S.H.I.E.L.D. is short on resources, even in the most unbelievably unstable situations. Look at New York as an example. It's outrageous!"

"Jemma-"

"I know that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't exactly play by rules that aren't their own," She continued to rampage while his words remained unheard. He eyed her as a spark began to light her eyes. "But they can't just let you go out there without a contract or a waiver or… or… anything!"

"Jemma, please. I'm alright."

"You're extremely lucky that you are!" She all but yelled back and the sight amused him slightly. "What would I have done if you'd died out there?"

The tension in the room shot sky high and he felt as if something had just ignited in both of them. He didn't dare avert his eyes, too afraid that if he did, she'd melt away. Her words were both torture and pleasure, making him ready to combust; she was the spark lighting him on fire.

Like a tidal wave, it washed over him that she would be more than happy to do anything for him just as he was ready to do anything for her. It was pure and absolute euphoria overcoming him, washing him away violently onto a safe shore.

Before anything could be processed or done, he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his torso. Her hair tickled his nose lightly and a smile made its way onto his face as he breathed in the smell of rose scented shampoo. It was something new and alien, yet wholly familiar all at the same time.

"I'm so happy you're alright." She whispered with her lips right beside his ear. The words washed away anything that had been gnawing away at him. He read the subtext of her words, heard the affection that was being expressed in the language that they had claimed as their own.

"We're okay, Jemma." His whisper and the kiss he pressed to her forehead were more than reassurances; they were promises, the promises of surviving tomorrow together. He knew that they would be together in every circumstance, too intertwined and connected to even think about letting go.

He could not help but think about how she fit so perfectly in his arms. She was his refuge, his home. There would never be any Fitz without Simmons, a belief that they were more than glad to agree on; two different entities that coexisted in such a way that they wholly depended on one another.

After a while, he pressed her lips to hers, saying all the words that need not ever be voiced. She buried a hand in his curls and used the other to play with the ones at the nape of his neck. They were tearing at the seams, bursting with the passion and energy that neither could bear to hold.

He pulled away from her, eyes still shut and arms still around her. There were no regrets or turning back or letting go; both were much too fargone. He cradled her and whispered words in her ear that she was all too glad to listen to.

But the most important things were the ones that they didn't need to say.


End file.
